It's been a week since Irving the cat came home from the vet, and it appears....fingers crossed....that he's completely over his horrific cold. We really thought he wasn't going to make it, so this is a huge relief.
Irving looks relieved too, don't you think?
Actually, he just looks goofy. That's because he's a goofball. He blunders around, and can't understand why the other cats don't just accept him right away. We're getting there, though.
I don't want to think about how much it cost to get Irving to this point. Multiple vet visits and a week living at the vet's getting mega-antibiotic shots every day, not to mention keeping him shut up in my sewing room for over a month, giving him pills twice a day, watching him struggle to breathe on his bad days, and gritting our teeth over the mattress he peed on. (Yeah, that's right, Irv, you thought we'd forgotten about that one, didn't you? Uh-uh, bud -- that's going on your permanent record!)
Why on earth would we go through all that for a cat someone else just abandoned? But what was the alternative? He's such a sweet, quirky little guy, and so accepting of everything that's happened to him.
We're all just weird about our pets, aren't we?